Concierge of the Dewy Garden

At the meeting of my poetry reading club, The Talk Party, a consensus was reached that poetry should not necessarily be indirect and there is nothing profane in poetry. As a result I have decided to post a poem I wrote so many years ago but which I have scarcely taken out for people to read. Here I am posting it for the first time on blogspot and for the second time on any social site.

Rooted at the intersection
Of the double flapping doors
At the entrance strewn with the nectar
Of sweet-scented straggling roses
Is the Concierge of the Dewy Garden of Even

Shivering, yet supinely erect
The sensuous concierge ushers in
In grumbles and murmurs
And in deluge of fast-paced paroxysms
The Adonis of this florid flexuous
Gothic sepulchral catacomb
Which had singularly caused
The downfall of greater nations
And chosen men of greater faith

Slipping past the concierge
In lecherous arrogance,
Through the gooey squirting nectar
Frictionless, but fitting fully and firmly
Into nature’s much much adored
Yet illogical jigsaw puzzle,
Surveying and exploring with
Great speed and admiration
Every lateral, dorsal, ventral
Proximal and distal convoluted sluices

Sowing the primordial seed of need
In a maelstrom of nervous implosions
Then leaving it to germinate, bloom
And fruit within the hidden dewy garden
And harvested at time’s third end through
The conspiratorial concierge of the dewy garden

copyright 2004 by Nana Fredua-Agyeman


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